AN EXPLORING PARTY
"Well!" was Leslie's first remark, "that proves _one_ thing beyond a
doubt."
"What?" demanded Phyllis.
"That it wasn't a _ghost_ around here. I never yet heard of a ghost who
made a footprint!"
The deduction somewhat staggered Phyllis in her pet belief. "I suppose
that's true," she had to admit. "I never did, either. But now the
question is, who did it and what did he want?"
But Leslie had been carefully examining the footprint. "You say, what did
'he' want. Have you noticed that this footprint doesn't look very much
like a _man's_?"
Phyllis stooped over it. "You're right! It's a woman's or a girl's.
Here's the deep imprint of the little French heel, and the narrow,
pointed toe. Must have a mighty small foot!" She measured her own beside
it. "Still, even mine would look much smaller in pumps or slippers
instead of these comfortable sneakers. Might be either a small woman or a
girl like ourselves."
"But why is there only _one_, I wonder?" mused Leslie.
"I think the answer to that is simple. She walked on this narrow
board-walk up from the back road, probably because it was easier, or,
even perhaps, so as not to make any footprints. And just at the doorstep
she may have stumbled, or stepped off by mistake in the darkness. Perhaps
she didn't even realize it."
Again Leslie had bent over the footprint. "She was coming in when she
made it. Do you notice that it points toward the door?"
Phyllis stared at her. "What a perfectly dandy detective you'd make!" she
exclaimed. "You simply take in everything!"
"You're just as good and even better!" laughed Leslie, secretly pleased,
however.
"Hurrah for us!" cried Phyllis. "We're just a pair of natural _Sherlock
Holmeses_! Now, here's what I propose. There's something mighty queer
going on here, I believe. And I'm willing to give up my ghost theory,
because it _does_ seem silly. But I want to investigate the thing pretty
thoroughly, and the only way to do it is to get into that bungalow and
see what has been going on inside."
"But Phyllis!" cried the shocked Leslie. "You wouldn't break into some
one else's bungalow, would you? And besides, how _could_ you?"
"Pooh!" declared Phyllis, in scorn. "As if I didn't know this bungalow as
well as our own, and the Danforths almost as well as my own family, too,
for that matter. I've been in here a thousand times. The Danforths would
be only too grateful to me for keeping an eye on their place for them.
They'd do the same for us. And as for getting in--why, I've always known
a private way of getting in when everything's locked up. The Danforths
themselves showed me. We'll get in this afternoon. This morning I
promised Ted and Father I'd fish with them awhile; but this afternoon I'm
free."
"Where are you two girls?" they heard Miss Crane calling from next door,
and they started guiltily, not realizing how long they had been away.
"I must be more careful, or Aunt Marcia will begin to suspect something
and question me," whispered Leslie. "It would never do in the world to
have her realize there was anything queer going on so close to us. She'd
pack up for home in a minute, her nerves are still so uncertain. Coming,
Aunt Marcia!"
"That's so!" agreed Phyllis. "Between keeping it from your aunt and from
Ted and Father, we're going to have some tight squeezes, I foresee! Well,
I'll be back after luncheon and we'll do a bit of investigating.
Good-by!"
It was between half past one and two, that afternoon, when Phyllis again
appeared at Rest Haven--a very auspicious time, for Miss Marcia was in
her room taking her usual long nap and Ted and his father had gone a mile
or more down the beach to an inlet to try the fishing there. The two
girls had the whole vicinity to themselves.
"What shall we do with Rags?" questioned Phyllis. "I hardly think we
ought to take him in. Can't you chain him up?"
"Oh, I wouldn't dare! He'd howl himself sick and wake Aunt Marcia. You
see, he's never chained. But I can turn him loose on the beach and let
him chase hermit-crabs, and when he's well occupied, we can slip away."
They strolled down to the water's edge with the dog, who was speedily
absorbed in the one occupation he found of never-failing interest. Then
they slipped back to the bungalow without his even noticing that they had
gone.
It was only when they stood by the side door of Curlew's Nest that Leslie
noticed something bulky concealed under Phyllis's sweater.
"What in the world have you got there?" she demanded.
Phyllis produced a large-sized electric torch. "How do you suppose we are
going to see anything in that dark place without something like this? We
certainly mustn't open any windows."
Leslie confessed she hadn't thought of it, and then watched with
amazement while Phyllis skilfully inserted the blade of a knife in the
crack of the door, wiggled it about a moment, and triumphantly lifted the
hook inside from its ring and swung open the door.
"Hurry in!" she whispered. "We must close this quickly before any one can
notice."
They shut the door in haste, and Phyllis flashed on her light. Then she
replaced the hook in its ring. "Now we're safe! You see, this is a little
side-closet like a pantry, where the ice-box is kept. They had the door
made so that the ice need not be carried in through the kitchen."
"But that's a very poor catch for the door--just that little hook!" cried
Leslie. "I should think they'd have something more secure than that."
"I suppose it is," agreed Phyllis, "and they've often said so themselves.
And yet it's just one of those things that never gets changed. Anyhow,
nobody ever locks anything down here, only fastens things up when the
season is over. There's really nothing valuable enough here to lock up or
to be attractive to thieves. And so it has just gone on, and I suppose
that hook will remain there forever! But come along! Let's get down to
business. This way to the living-room!" and she led the way along a
passage and into the big main room of the bungalow.
It was very much on the style of that of Rest Haven, furnished with
attractive willow furniture, and with a large brick open fireplace at one
side. As Phyllis flashed the torch about in a general survey, Leslie
noticed that the cottage was obviously dismantled for the winter. The
furniture stood huddled against the walls; there were no dainty draperies
at the shuttered windows, and the rugs were rolled up, tied, and heaped
in one corner.
"Nothing seems out of the way here," said Phyllis. "It's just as the
Danforths usually leave it. Now let's look into the bedrooms."
They journeyed through the four bedrooms with no different result. Each
wore the same undisturbed air of being shorn of its summer drapery, with
beds starkly stripped of all but their mattresses, and these covered with
heavy paper. Then on into the kitchen, which seemed, of all the rooms, to
wear more nearly its normal aspect. But even there everything,
apparently, appeared as it should.
It was in the kitchen that Phyllis stopped short and faced Leslie. "Well,
doesn't it beat everything!" she exclaimed. "After all we've seen and
heard,--yes, and _found_,--there's not a thing here that looks as if a
living soul had been in it since Mrs. Danforth closed it up. Now what do
you make of it?"
"Perhaps we haven't looked closely enough. Let's go over it again," was
all Leslie could offer. "And isn't it possible that a person might come
in here for some reason and not disturb anything?"
"Yes, of course it's possible, but is it likely?" countered Phyllis. "But
as you say, we'd better go over the place again and more carefully. If we
don't find _something_, I shall certainly go back to believing in my
'ghost.' And I guess you'll admit I have foundation for it now!"
[Illustration: Phyllis flashed the torch about in a general survey]
"I tell you what!" suggested Leslie. "Suppose we each take a turn with
the flash-light and go over every room twice, first you, then myself. I
noticed that, when you held the light, I had to follow behind and look
over your shoulder or get in your way, and I really couldn't see very
well. Now, I'll sit in this chair while you go over the place, and then
you give the torch to me. How does that strike you?"
"Good idea! You're full of 'em, Leslie. I ought to have thought of it
before." And while Leslie sat down rather gingerly in one of the willow
rockers against the wall, Phyllis systematically examined the room again,
diving into all the nooks and corners, and at last came back to hand the
torch to her friend.
"No luck! It's as clean as a whistle of any clues, as far as I can see.
You take your turn."
When Leslie had completed her search, they proceeded to treat the other
rooms in similar fashion, and so had come to the last bedroom when they
were startled by a sound from outside the house.
"What in the world is _that_?" cried Phyllis, in a panic. "It's the most
uncanny sound I ever heard!" They listened again and caught the
intonation of a long moan, ending in a rising note like a wail. It was
truly a little hair-raising in the closed, forsaken spot.
Suddenly Leslie giggled. "Oh, it's only Rags! He's missed me at last,
traced me here, and is probably sitting by that side door now, protesting
against having been deserted!"
Phyllis was both relieved at the explanation and annoyed at the
interruption. "Let's go and stop him right away, or he'll have all the
neighborhood here!"
They hurried to the little side door in the pantry and snapped off their
light. Rags, from the outside, sniffing at the threshold, sensed their
approach and yapped joyously.
"But how are you going to lock that door after you?" whispered Leslie, in
sudden terror. "It isn't possible!"
"Trust me!" smiled the capable Phyllis. "Do you suppose I'd have
unfastened it if I couldn't fasten it up again? I just keep the hook in a
certain position with my knife, as I close the door, and then gently drop
it into the ring through the crack. I've done it a dozen times. Leroy
Danforth taught us how."
Leslie breathed a sigh of relief, and Phyllis cautiously opened the door.
Then both girls started back in genuine dismay!
Sitting cross-legged in the sand, directly in front of the door and
holding back the delighted Rags by his collar, was--of all people most
unwelcome to Phyllis--her grinning brother Ted!
The consternation of the guilty pair was almost ludicrous, at least Ted
found it so. Then Phyllis recovered her self-possession and demanded:
"What are _you_ doing here, I'd like to know?"
"Please, ma'am, that's a question I prefer to ask of you--and with a
great deal more reason!" returned Ted. "Of all the nervy things I ever
saw, it's you prowling around the Danforths' closed bungalow and sneaking
out like a thief when you thought no one was around!" Leslie felt herself
turn red and uncomfortable at the accusation, but Phyllis seemed in no
wise daunted.
"I guess if I want to show the place to Leslie, there isn't any
particular harm in it. She's been asking me what it looked like in there
and how it differed from their house. You know perfectly well, the
Danforths wouldn't care a brass farthing!" This statement happened to be
entirely true, for Leslie _had_ questioned her only the day before as to
the interior arrangements and expressed some curiosity to see it. She
breathed a sigh of relief at the ease with which Phyllis seemed to be
explaining a rather peculiar situation.
Ted, however, seemed only half convinced. "If that's so, it's mighty
queer that you looked so guilty and caught-in-the-act-y when you came out
and saw me! And for goodness sake, how long have you been in there,
anyway? This Rags dog came running up the beach to us at least an hour
ago. And I thought, of course, you girls were somewhere about. But when
you didn't appear after a while, I began to get worried, and Rags and I
started off to find you. He led me straight here (good old chap!) and
we've been sitting waiting at least fifteen minutes. Then he began to
howl and gave the game away. Now please explain all this!"
"I'll explain nothing further," replied Phyllis, loftily, "and I'll
trouble you to tend to your own affairs in the future!" With which
crushing rejoinder she marched away, dragging the unhappy Leslie after
her.
"All right! Just you wait! I'll dig out your little secret!" he called
after them.
"And he will, too!" muttered Phyllis. "That is, if we don't use the
greatest caution. Isn't it unfortunate that that wretched dog led him
right here! However, I've settled him for the present, and now let's
think about other things."
But it was not so easy for Leslie to forget the unpleasantness of the
recent encounter and the implication that she had been caught
trespassing. But Phyllis settled down to steady talk about their
investigations and she presently forgot the impression.
"It's mighty strange that in all our careful search we didn't find a
single thing that would indicate a recent visitor," mused Phyllis.
"Didn't you see anything--any _least_ little thing?" questioned Leslie.
Phyllis stared at her in some surprise. "Why, you _know_ I didn't! What
makes you ask?"
"Because I _did_!" Leslie quietly returned.